


Time Can Heal Our Wounds

by JesseyAJCarter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sala Samobójców | Suicide Room (2011)
Genre: Age Difference, Freeform, M/M, Out of Character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesseyAJCarter/pseuds/JesseyAJCarter
Summary: Draco Malfoy did not find this situation one bit funny. How is he expected to commit his whole life to this young man, let alone be his friend? Dominik is just trying his best to make something out of this mess...and Draco is kinda cute for a middle-aged man.In which Draco and Dominik are forced to live together for the foreseeable future. There is slow burn. The tags are subject to change as the story progresses.Out-of-character characters, but I tried to stay sorta true to them.





	Time Can Heal Our Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first post here and I'm so excited!  
> This fic is definitely rough around the edges and a work in progress (hint the awkward ending but I promise I'm working on it). If anyone would like to beta or just leave any comments that would absolutely lovely!  
> Please enjoy!

1 DRACO MALFOY AND DOMINIK SANTORSKI

Silence filled the room. The only audible sound was that of the hushed breathing of the two, sitting opposite each other in equally plush armchairs. In one Draco Malfoy, bleach blond, haughty, and sharp as a knife, in looks and in wits, sits with a bored expression and a jiggling knee. In the other Dominik Santorski, tall, dark, and charismatic, slouches with crossed ankles and fiddles with his hoodie strings.

Both are ignoring the other.

Draco is the first to speak.

“I suppose you are my ‘muggle mistress’ or whatever obnoxious name they gave this inane project?”

“It is muggle mate.”

Draco glared at the young man, taking in his muggle clothing and his slouched posture.  
Of course, they would match me with this muggle. Draco could picture Granger and Potter laughing with unbridled glee as they went through candidates, and deciding on this muggle, the complete opposite of Draco, rejoicing as they had found the perfect way of getting back at him for all the years he had ‘tormented’ them in school. He personally thought this to be even lower than something he himself would do. Not only would he have to associate with this muggle, but he would have to become almost a spousal figure to him.

“You are the one everyone was warning me about? You do not look mean at all. You look more like wet, angry cat. “

Yes. This will be much worse.

~

“You are telling me that you are the heir to an ancient family fortune, an ex-Mafia member, and the second smartest kid in your grade, but you are jealous of another who was not rich, less smart, and average intelligence at best? I do not believe you!”

“I was not in the Mafia! I have no idea where you got that idea!”

“You said an evil man was in charge of other sadistic people with influence, so I only assumed.”

“Well, you assumed wrong. I thought the Mafia was just a muggle myth. Anyways, as I was saying, Harry just stood there like an idiot as these pixies were attacking everyone in sight and ---”

“You have more everything than him. Why should you be jealous? It should be the other way around.”

“Can you let this go? I am in the middle of a story.”

“No. I knew a boy like this Harry. He used to be my friend. Then he made my life a living hell.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I have known him since we were very young. You would think he could let things go as we grow older. Apparently not.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Are you done? Can I finish my story now?”

“Did nothing ever happen between you and this Harry that you wish you could erase? Some…some instance that made things the way they are now.”

Draco stared at Dominik for a moment.

“Yes. And what it just so happens to be none of your business, at this moment in time. So, do not ask.”

“I will tell you mine.”

“As tempting as that is, I will have to pass.”

Draco then stood and walked to a nearby bookcase, seemingly engrossed in the literature before him. Dominik sunk down into the sofa. He did not understand how Draco could be jealous of someone that was obviously of lower standing (by their strange societies standards) than him. Thinking about Aleks made his stomach burn and do cartwheels into his throat, but he could not stop the deluge of memories and emotions that he so often kept buried in his mind. He had become very familiar with the spikes of anger, constantly pricking his insides and flooding him with unnecessary adrenaline then leaving him feeling empty. The gnawing of rejection, creeping its way to each part of his body like cancer, crippling and rotting as it moves. Then there was the outright sadness. The sadness hurt the most, indescribable in its ability to rob him of any happiness or contentment in his life. It never truly left him, even from before what happened with Aleks. But now, now, it left him numb. Numb to everything except the darkness that had become his norm. Maybe this is what Draco is also feeling, the sadness. If only he would open up to me. I did not ask to be a part of this either. I do not even know what kind of people I am now involved with.

Draco’s insides were swirling in a mad tempest. His mind was racing through years of memories haunted by tousled hair and vivid green eyes. He still had dreams of being chased through endless corridors, dark halls lined with portraits of his ancestors and broken furniture. Lightning flashes, reflecting off mirror shards littering the tattered carpet. Helplessness ate through him like a disease. The only way to escape the dream was when lightning would come down from the darkness above, colored a familiar shade of iridescent green, and strike him.

Selecting a random book from the shelf he flipped it open.

*** _How long had it been? Seemingly endless hours and days had passed since I saw his face. The smell of his sweat. The sound of his laugh. Never have I felt such loneliness. A half-empty bed never hurt so much. I lay alone at night, replaying the last things he said to me. How I lashed out and shut myself away._

_I miss him._

_Everything about him. I hated him but loved him. I can’t picture my life without him in it. I need him. I need him in my every waking moment. I need his beautiful mind, his beautiful voice, his beautiful body, and especially his beautiful, hard, throbbing c—_ ”***

He slammed the book closed.

“Not good?”

“Papercut.”

“Of course.”

Draco shoved the book back onto the shelf. Lover’s Lament. Rubbing a hand over his eyes and massaging his temple he took a minute to compose himself. Stupid boy. Trying to get into his business as if he had a right to. This whole arrangement was stupid! Who actually believes that magical beings and muggles could coexist in such close proximities?

“Draco. Come play Xbox with me. I need a second player.”

He glanced over to Dominik who was sprawled on the sofa, a second controller dangling from his outstretched hand. His teenager body was long and gangly, thin like a young sapling. His overly large shirts hid how skinny he was underneath. Draco had noticed the way he ate very little and talked even less. Unless, of course, he was talking about some occurrence from his past that he felt the need to share with Draco, then he would talk nonstop.

“I do not feel like embarrassing myself again with that silly game.”

“You did not even give it a chance. Come, I show you how to play again.”

Draco sighed, resigning himself to another evening of Dominik’s frustrating, yet slightly amusing antics.

~

“I still do not understand.”

“What do you not understand?”

“You have a keeper, beaters, and chasers, but only one seeker. Why do you not have more seekers?”

“You are missing the point. There are only one seeker and one beater. If there were any more then it would not be a game.”

“It does not make sense to only have one seeker! The—what was it? The snitch?”

“Yes, snitch, but there is only one because—”

“The snitch is the main object of the game. Of course, a game is a game, but why not just add more bludgers or quaffles?”

“Then we would need more beaters and chasers, not more seekers.”

“No, no, no. Only seekers! You put in more of the bludgers and quaffles so the seekers have to work harder at finding the snitch.”

“That’s absurd!”

“The bludgers and quaffles make it much harder to find and catch the snitch. It will add more danger and suspense to the sport. It seems you witches or whatever you are like that sort of entertainment.”

“Doing that will only defeat the purpose of the game! It is about teamwork and fortitude. Being able to work as one to accomplish a singular goal.”

“That is stupid!”

“How is that stupid? You muggles have sports. They are the same thing except that in quidditch we fly. How can that be any worse than soccer or basketball or football?”

“Those sports are just as bad. I did not say that there were any good, sensible sports, only that this particular sport does not seem as fully functioning as it could be.”

“Do you even participate in any sports?”

“No. I did. Sort of.”

“Sort of? What does sort of mean?”

“I did martial arts for a while.”

“Does that even count as a sport?”

“Yes.”

Draco shook his head, rubbing at his temples. Dominik had a keen talent for making his headache and throb with his backward logic. Not all muggles could be like this. Granted, Dominik was intelligent. He knew international current events, classic literature, philosophy, and rudimentary college-level academics. He was …pleasant to have a conversation with when he wasn’t being childish and going off on his wild tangents that are so wild and far out that Draco has trouble wrapping his mind around what he says. It helped that he wasn’t horrible in the looks area. His strong bones and dark features struck Draco as rather attractive. Not that he was looking, of course. It was purely an observation.

“Let us go and eat, Draco. I am starving.”

Dominik slithered his way off the sofa and headed into the small kitchenette. Draco did not move to follow, ruminating over his thoughts as he listened to him clutter about the cabinets.

“Draco, come assist, please.”

“Coming.”

He stood, cracking his back and stretching. Upon entering the room, the first thing he noticed was the frilly gingerbread apron worn by Dominik. It twirled about his waist as he swayed to an inaudible beat. Steam billowed from saucepans. The a-rhythmic bubbling of boiling water hinted at the preparation of a dish of Italian persuasion. Dominik loved making pasta and ravioli dishes. Draco had been served every kind of noodle and traditional sauce he could think of, and now the boy had begun experimenting with the ingredients and flavors. Some days, he experimented all day, forcing Draco to be his taste tester. It went to say that Draco was very close to hating pasta and all its ravioli cousins.

“What will it be tonight?”

“I was thinking a zesty herb-encrusted chicken in alfredo sauce with spicy garlic knots. I have noticed that you enjoy your food with spices and an extra…you call it a ‘kick’.”

“You have ‘noticed’ how I like my food?”

“Yes. I do all the cooking here. I notice what you like and do not like.”

Draco picked at the tablecloth. It’s true he did like his food on the spicy side, but how had Dominik been able to know that just from how he ate? While he did tire of the constant variations of pasta, he did enjoy the boy’s cooking. He had a talent for being able to fuse flavors together. He created dishes that astounded even Draco’s well-versed palate and taste buds. It gave Draco a strange feeling in his stomach when the boy would show off his knife skills, dicing carrots and deconstructing a chicken, blew Draco’s mind.

“That is very kind of you. To notice those kinds of things about me.”

“Is it?”

“Well…yes. Is that not something you do in your country?”

“No. I mean, yes, but not something we make a fuss about. Or not in my experience.”

“So, your mother never made your favorite food just to make you happy on a bad day? Or for your birthday?”

“No. My mother did not cook. We had a housekeeper who would cook most of the meals.”

“I understand that. We had…housekeepers who cooked and cleaned for us. My mother still made sure to cook my favorite dishes, whether it be on my birthday or holiday. I can still remember her stroking my hair as I ate her mincemeat pie, fresh out of the oven.” He ran a hand through his hair absently as he remembered. “All of my fondest memories of her are of her cooking. Flour smudged on her cheek and her hair tied up. She was truly beautiful in those moments.”

Dominik listened to Draco speak, fascinated by the way his eyes lit up and his face softened. It was incredible to see the transition from his normal, steely expressions to what he was looking at now. He could almost see the scene as Draco described it: a motherly figure standing over a stove and a tiny version of Draco watching from his seat on the counter next to her. He would say something to her and she would smile at him. Not a patient smile, but a smile that reached her eyes and crinkled them at the sides. She reaches out and strokes his chubby cheek with a floury hand. He giggles and she kisses his nose.

“You are lucky to have such memories of your mother.”

“Yes.”

Draco could see the tension in Dominik’s shoulders.

“I’m sure you have good memories of your mother.”

“No. My parents were married to their work.”

“Didn’t they spend time with you? Take you to parks or the movies?”

“They did seem to enjoy the opera. We went quite often.”

“That’s good.”

“Hmm, yes. They definitely enjoyed it when we would meet members in higher social standing than us.”

“Why would that matter to them?”

“My mother was the head of an advertising company. My father was a **** that worked with the government. They were never home. They had a driver that would take me where I was scheduled to go. There were times when I would not see them for days at a time.”

Draco was speechless.


End file.
